Lab Rat
by daphrose
Summary: I sit alone in the dark cell. The boy in the room next to me has fallen asleep, so I no longer have anyone to talk to. I draw my knees to my chest and stare at the wall. How did I get here? Who am I, anyway? (AU and OOC. Pretty dark fic. [High T for character death and torture.] Read at your own risk.)
1. Chapter 1

*** * * Chapter 1 * * ***

* * *

><p>The dark walls seemed almost suffocating. The metal was cold, so very cold. Just to my left was a door, but what did it matter? The door was incredibly thick, and it was bolted on the outside. There was absolutely no hope of getting out of there.<p>

I climbed onto the metal cot and stared up at the metal ceiling in my metal cell. I shivered and pulled myself into a ball in an attempt to get warm. It didn't help. I should've known by now that nothing would help.

Only, when was now?

The sound of clanging boots echoed through the hall outside and I sat up, confused. It wasn't time. Why were they here?

To my surprise, the boots stopped before they reached my cell. I could hear a door being opened—it sounded like mine, but it wasn't—and a grunt along with scuffling feet.

Then a face appeared at the window in my door. I stiffened mechanically. The man didn't open my door, however. He simply growled, "You've got a new neighbor," and walked away.

A new neighbor?

The boots walked out of the hall and I was left alone. Well, if the man was to be believed—and I knew that he often wasn't—I was not entirely alone.

I turned on my cot and stared at the wall. Slowly I rapped on it with my knuckles. For a few seconds it was silent, then I heard a small clanging sound from the other side of the wall. My heart lifted. My 'neighbor' was answering me.

"Hello?" I shouted.

"Hello?" a voice called back. It sounded like it came from above me.

"There's a grate up there," I said loudly, looking at the spot high up on the wall. "In between our rooms. It doesn't lead anywhere, but it connects the rooms together. We can talk to each other."

"Oh," the deep voice answered. He sounded almost upset.

"Is that bad?"

"No, I guess not. Beats sitting alone in this cell with nothing to do."

"At least until they come and take you," I muttered. Then so my neighbor could hear me, I said, "Do you know who you are?"

"Subject R, ID 04316542," he rattled off. "Who are you?"

I swallowed. The only "me" I knew was the me they had told me about. "Subject S, ID 04316781." It was information I had been forced to memorize, but it never sounded right. I was more than a number, surely.

"Ah, Subject S!" he said as if he knew me. "You're in my group."

"Yes," I said slowly. "It's me and you and Subject Q, whoever that is."

"I've never met Subject Q either. I haven't even technically met you, since we can't see each other."

"I wonder if they'll let us meet someday."

"I don't know. I think that's their plan."

"Subject R . . . you sound kind of familiar."

"So do you, Subject S. Maybe we've heard recordings, or accidentally met one day and forgot."

"Do you . . . do you forget a lot?"

"Yes. They _make _me forget. To be honest, though, I'm happy. It makes me feel free. Whatever I've done in the past makes no difference now, because I don't remember any of it."

"I don't feel that way," I said. "I want to know who I really am. But I don't think I'll ever remember."

"They've told me some things about myself," he said.

"They've told me things too. But . . . but I don't trust them. I feel like they're lying."

"Maybe they are, maybe they aren't. I don't care. Subject S, you _know _that our loyalty must lie with them."

"So I've been told."

"You need to be more than told. You need to do it. You are supposed to follow them, Subject S. They are our leaders."

"You sound just like them."

"That's what they've told me to say. Subject S, you have to listen to me. I can tell that you're rebellious. That's not a good thing. Maybe that's why they put me next to you. You need to listen to them, Subject S."

"But they hurt me!"

"They know what they're doing. In the end, they know what they're doing."

I shivered again, but this time it was not because of the cold metal. It was because of Subject R's dangerous monotone. They had gotten to him in ways they had not yet done with me. I could tell that they had warped his mind, turning him into a brainwashed minion. I knew that I was next.

"Do they hurt you?" I asked quietly.

He hesitated for a moment. "Yes," he said. "But it's because they want to help me."

"Help and hurt are opposites!" I might not remember my real name, but I knew that basic and undisputed fact of life.

"No, they're not," he said coolly. "Sometimes hurt is required to help. They're making me better, Subject S. They are _helping _me reach my full potential. In return, I serve them."

"But that's not right. Surely that's not right. Humans—"

"We're not really humans, Subject S. I thought you knew that. We are . . .we are _subjects_. Science projects. Don't go labeling yourself as something you are not."

"_They _say we're science projects."

"_They _are right. Subject S, I've had a long day. Arguing with you won't help with my exhaustion. Please, let me sleep."

"Okay, Subject R. Goodnight."

I got no reply.

Maybe he was right. Maybe we were little more than science projects, probed and studied and examined for the purpose of advancing the human race. In that case, my life was virtually worthless.

As I tried to fall asleep, I did what I did every night: tried to remember who I was.

For some reason, I remembered nothing past a few months ago, and most of those few months was a blur. I blamed the scientists. Whatever they had done, I had no memories of a different time. Had I always lived here, in this jail cell?

But that couldn't be right. Sometimes I had short, brief flashes to another time. It was always somewhere far away, sometimes with a bright light that _must _be sunshine. These glances were so quick and passed so fast that I never had time to take hold and search my brain for more.

Just as I was about to fall asleep, something flashed into my mind's eye. Bright blue bars surrounded me, and there was no way to get out. There was a man next to me, and I was just about to look at his face when my brain seized up and refused to let me see more.

Out of habit, I groaned. Why must my brain be so cruel to give me these quick glances, but never reveal the whole picture? I wanted to know where those bars were! What was their purpose? Who was that man? I would probably never know now.

Another thing that was making my head spin was Subject R. He _really _sounded familiar to me. He had sounded like he was about my age, most likely. I tried to place his voice, but nothing worked. I knew that I _should _know his voice, but I just did not.

_Jamais vu._

_What?_

_The phenomenon of knowing that you should recognize something, but still not recognizing it. It's like the opposite of déjà vu._

_Where in the world did that come from? And I don't really think that's it. It's more like the word on the tip of your tongue._

_Jamais vu._

_No! It's not . . . I _do _recognize him, I just don't know how._

_Jamais vu is prevalent in some cases of amnesia. Isn't that what you have?_

_Yes . . . no . . . I-I don't know! Quit it! Where did you even learn 'jamais vu' anyway? I don't remember!_

"Ugh, shut up!" I shouted at my internal thoughts.

"Subject S?" the voice from next door called. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," I replied. "Just fine."

"Then please let me sleep."

"Yes, um, goodnight."

I rolled over and pressed my cheek against the metal cot and closed my eyes. I was exhausted, just like everyday. After a little while I was able to fall asleep, but not without one or two more flashes of experiences that I vaguely recognized but still didn't know anything about. I hated my brain.


	2. Chapter 2

*** * * Chapter 2 * * ***

* * *

><p>The next day they came for me, just like they always did. Two guards came and gripped my biceps, dragging me out of my cell for my daily training. I put up no strong resistance, though I let my feet drag a little so they would have to pull me along.<p>

Soon we came to a large door with a man standing in front of it. He was dressed in a long white coat and was holding a clipboard in his hands. I had come to know him as "The Researcher." He glanced up at me and his face remained expressionless.

"Are you ready, Subject S?" he asked icily. All I could do was nod my head. In truth, I was not ready, but what choice did I have? "Good. You know what to do; the next step of training and your breakfast are at the end. Let's see if you can beat your record."

The Researcher opened the door and stepped aside. The guards tossed me in and the door slammed shut. I looked up at the dimly lit halls in front of me. They didn't look any different than the halls I had just left, but I knew better.

Breakfast was my motivation for this. I didn't know how long it had been since I had eaten, but it had been long enough to make me extremely hungry. At this point I was willing to eat a pineapple.

_Pineapple? I don't like pineapple?_

_No, I don't._

_But why?_

A small beep sounded and I took a deep breath. _Maybe Subject R is right. Running for food. I'm not a human. But is that their fault . . . or mine?_

My legs began moving and I started to run as fast as I could. Charging down the hallways and around corners, just to please them. I ran as if I was running for my life—for all I knew, I was.

It didn't take long before the flames began to shoot out from the holes in the walls. I gasped and ran even faster. I pushed my body as hard as it would go, and soon it was screaming at me to slow down. But I could not.

The flames licked at my heels and I felt the sweat accumulate on my forehead. It was so close to me. One misstep, one trip, one mistake, and I would be toast—quite literally.

The fire was meant to push me as fast as I would go. They were watching, trying to get me to beat my record. I needed to run, run, run. It was tiresome, and, frankly, painful. Did they care? The answer to that would be a big, fat "no."

As I came around another corner, I saw the rope that was the next part of my challenge. I gripped it just as the fire spread under my feet. With all my strength, I began to climb up the rope. My muscles screamed at me to stop, but I had to keep climbing.

I heard the sizzling sound that I had come to anticipate. The bottom of the rope was on fire. If I wanted to survive, I would have to climb much faster.

My hands began to ache—I think it's called rope burn—as I slid them up and struggled to keep going. Just one slip would seal my doom. I squeezed the rope and sucked in my breath.

_Almost there. Keep going. You're so close. Don't die!_

That last thought terrified me. The fact that I _needed _to think that was horrifying. My life was a game of survival. That was all. If I was only surviving, then I certainly couldn't be human. I was barely alive. This was not living, and I knew it.

_Let me out! Stop this madness! I can't go on! Let me go! Let me go!_

Finally I reached the top of the rope. I climbed onto the nearby platform and dropped to my hands and knees. The next thing I had to do was the easiest part of the training—at least for me.

Straight ahead was a door. I walked towards it and pressed on the nearby wall. A large, holographic screen appeared. All I had to do to get out was answer ten questions correctly.

It wouldn't have been so bad, except every time I got a question wrong I got shocked. I didn't understand how they expected me to know all the answers since I didn't even remember my real name—if I ever had one—but sometimes I found it surprisingly easy.

"Who was the first President of the United States of America?" the computer read. I didn't know how, but somehow I knew to put in "George Washington." My brain refused to tell me precisely who he was, but I knew it was the correct answer. I typed it in and sighed with relief when no pain shot through my body.

The next question was harder. "What is the Jacobson's organ?" Unfortunately, my brain couldn't give me that answer. The time slowly ticked away and I felt the jolt go through my body. I cried out in agony.

It took about seventeen tries to get the required ten correct answers. The door opened and I slowly walked through it. I rubbed my tingling fingers on my arms and blinked back the tears that pushed at the corners of my eyes.

I walked into a completely white room that was well-lit. I blinked a few times to adjust my eyes. In the middle of the room was a table. There were two circular chairs sitting across from each other. One of them was occupied by a young woman.

"Sit, Subject S," she said coolly. I obeyed.

She picked up a bowl that was sitting on the table and handed it to me. I picked up the spoon and began to eat the . . . gruel. There was no better word. It was a bunch of brown mush. It wasn't very appetizing, but it did give me energy and satisfy my hunger.

The woman, who I had come to know as "The Counselor," watched me eat for a few minutes. Finally she said, "Well, you didn't beat your record."

"I figured not," I said after I swallowed another mouthful of the tasteless "food."

"We're disappointed in you," she said smoothly. "We had hopes for you, Subject S."

Something about her tone made something shift inside of me. "I can still do it," I said. "I just . . . I was tired."

"You don't have any excuses. We don't understand why you haven't unlocked your powers yet."

"Maybe I would if you would tell me more about them."

"No!" she snapped. "You have to find them on your own!"

"Okay, okay!" I said. I took another bite of my food and attempted to swallow the lump in my throat along with it.

"We do think you're getting closer," The Counselor said. "Soon you'll have new challenges. Some of them may involve others like yourself."

"Like Subject R?"

"Oh, so you met your new neighbor."

"Yes."

"Maybe him. Maybe others, like Subject Q. Subject S, there are some things you need to remember. Mostly about appearances."

I put my bowl down on the table. "I don't understand."

"We've worked hard to make sure that you're ready for the challenges you're going to face. But some of this is up to you. You need to make sure that you don't pay much attention to how people look. They may look very friendly, but they are your enemies. Like Subject R. He is your enemy."

"What?" I asked. "I thought he was in my group!"

"He is. You and him and Subject Q were somewhat of a . . . package deal. You came together. But they are both your enemies. Not your friends. They never were."

I looked around at the white room. I knew I shouldn't believe her words but . . . I did. Not voluntarily. I found myself nodding, but I never commanded my head to do so. She smiled slowly.

"Good," she said. "So if we ever make you fight someone, you can't think too much about it. Just do what we've told you to do. Don't ask questions, Subject S, and things will be much easier for you."

"I understand," I said mechanically, not of my own free will.

The Counselor stood up, as did I. We walked to the door and she opened it for me. Outside were the two guards, ready to take me away. I turned back to the woman.

"No experiments today?" I asked her.

"Not today," she said.

Internally I sighed with relief, but outwardly I remained passive. The guards grabbed me and marched me back down the hall to my cell.

When I got back, they shoved me inside and slammed the door like they always did. I collapsed onto my cot, groaning. All my limbs ached.

"Subject R?" I called out weakly, wondering if he was there.

"Yes, Subject S?" He was.

"Did . . . did you know that we're enemies?"

There was a pause for a minute. "Yes."

"Did you know that we might have to fight each other someday?"

"Yes."

"And you're okay with that?"

"I don't mind talking to you now, Subject S. But I know that someday I might have to destroy you. If they tell me to do it, I will. No questions asked. That's why I didn't want to talk to you. I can't get close. Someday I may have the pleasure of killing you."

The way he said it so nonchalantly made a shiver go up my spine. He was prepared to do whatever was "required" of him. If the time came when I needed to fight, would I have the same strength?


	3. Chapter 3

*** * * Chapter 3 * * ***

* * *

><p>The next day I was not so lucky. After training, I was escorted to the experimentation room. I didn't have to go in there every day, but when I did it was torture—quite literally, I might add.<p>

I laid down on the table in the center of the room. They strapped down my arms and legs and I tried to slow my breathing. They would not get the pleasure of seeing me scared.

A man with a white lab coat—"The Doctor"—walked into the room and smiled at me. It was not the nice kind of smile. It was menacing and dangerous. It was evil. It was the kind of smile that meant he would take pleasure in what he was about to do.

The Doctor walked over with a few of his helpers behind him. "We've got something new to try today, Subject S," he told me. "Just lie still and this won't hurt at all."

_Another lie._

I didn't say anything to him. They walked over to their small table of tools and I shut my eyes. Everything inside of me hated this, but there was nothing I could do. They had control of me, and there was no way for me to fight back.

"We tried this on Subject R a week ago," The Doctor said. "He seems to be responding well. Hopefully you will too."

He inserted a syringe into my wrist and I winced. A few seconds later my brain became fuzzy.

_You know what he's doing, right? He's turning you into some kind of mindless follower, like Subject R! You heard the way he talked! You're going to sound exactly like that! Fight it, Subject S! You have to fight it!_

_No! Let yourself relax. Come on, Subject S. You know that Subject R is right. They know what's best for you. Why do you fight them so much? Just let your mind go . . ._

_No! Don't give in! Don't give in!_

* * *

><p><em>Two boys and one girl stood there, fists raised, ready for the fight. Fire, there was fire. And . . . and pain. I was lying on the ground, in a lot of pain.<em>

* * *

><p>I gasped and opened my eyes. The breath hitched in my throat and I stared up at The Doctor. His lips were pursed and he began to frown.<p>

"Stay still, Subject S," he said. "Let me do what I need to do."

"No!" I shouted. "You've taken something away from me! I don't know what it is, but you've taken it away and I'm . . . I'm mad at you for that!"

"Subject S!" he barked. "You have no family to speak of. You'll all alone in this world and you _always were_. Don't delude yourself! We're the only ones who will take care of you!"

"This is not taking care of me!" I shouted.

"Would you rather die?"

"Yes!" I screamed. "Kill me and get this over with!"

The Doctor was about to answer when the door opened and a guard peered in. "Excuse me, sir? The Agent is here to see you. He demands an update on your progress."

I saw The Doctor roll his eyes slowly. "You stay here," he hissed at me.

"Like I have a choice," I replied, rubbing my wrists against the restraints to prove my point.

The Doctor motioned for his assistants to follow him out and I was left alone in the room, strapped onto the table. If I strained my ears, I could just make out what they were saying right outside the door.

"We're trying, sir," I heard The Doctor say.

"Try harder!" another voice shouted. I had never seen the man the voice belonged to, but I knew him as "The Agent." As far as I could tell, everyone in this facility worked for him.

"We're doing our absolute best," The Doctor said. "But they're resisting. Subject R has shown incredible improvement. I was about to test it out on Subject S. Subject Q . . ."

"What about Subject Q?"

"That one isn't as responsive. But we're trying."

"Quit _trying_. Do, Doctor! It's bad enough that my boss is making me keep them from the press, but now they're not working at all! If we intend to use them to our advantage, we have to make sure they're perfect! Have you even gotten them working?"

"Not yet, sir. It seems that the memory-erasing methods affected them somehow. We can't get them working again."

"Would restoring their memories help?"

"Doubtful. But even so, that would be too dangerous. They can't remember any of their past or they won't listen to us. It gives them too much freedom."

"Subjects A through P all failed. If you fail with these three as well, I will make sure that your career ends right here."

"Is that a threat, sir?"

"It just might be. These three are holding _my _career in their freakish hands. If they fail, so will you. Forever. Doctor, I need these three! I am a dangerous man, and you do not want to know what I am capable of."

"Understood, sir. But . . . sir?"

"What is it?"

"You might not have all three."

"What do you mean? Why not?"

"Subject Q has been _too_ unresponsive."

"Spit it out, Doctor! What does that mean?"

"We may have to destroy Subject Q. If that subject becomes too powerful, we're all doomed. The best thing to do would be to end it right now."

For a few seconds everything was silent, and I knew that The Agent must've been angry. "You'll just destroy it . . . just like that?"

I cringed at the use of the word "it." That was how The Agent addressed us. He didn't think of us as human. Then again, I wasn't sure if Subject Q was human. But if he—or she—was in my group, then surely they were.

"We're thinking about having Subject Q fight one of the other subjects. Chances are that the subject will die in the process. But don't worry, sir. We won't lose anything. We have successfully taken out everything that makes Subject Q 'special.' That subject is completely disposable, and at this point it's safer. Subject Q is, as I said, much too dangerous to continue training."

"Fine. So long as you don't lose anything that we've been working towards. Don't mess this up again, Doctor. I am a desperate man, you understand."

"I do, sir. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to see if our 'treatment' will work on Subject S."

"Of course. Do what you have to do. Let me know if you make any progress."

"Will do, sir. Goodbye."

The Doctor came back in with his assistants behind him. They all walked over to one of the small tables and started messing around with their supplies. The Doctor whispered something to the others before turning to face me.

"Subject S, if you don't want to wind up like Subject Q, you'll do what I say."

"Subject Q is still alive!"

"Not for long," The Doctor said coolly. "Perhaps you'll get the pleasure of being the one to do the killing."

I shuddered. "Why not have Subject R do it?"

The Doctor gazed down at me. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. He was planning something. "We know where Subject R's loyalty lies. Yours . . . yours we're not so sure about. Yes . . . I believe you _will _be the one to fight Subject Q."

"No!" I shouted. "You can't make me!"

"Oh, I think we can," he said with that same evil grin from earlier.

One of his assistants walked up with the needle from before and plunged it into my wrist again. I howled, partly out of pain, partly out of indignation. I felt whatever liquid had been in the needle begin to spread through my body.

"You are Subject S," The Doctor said slowly.

"I am Subject S," I repeated. My brain began to fog over again and my vision blurred a bit.

"Your ID is 04316781."

"My ID is 04316781."

_Shh, you're safe now. There's no need to worry about anything. You'll be fine. Don't struggle, don't fight. You're perfectly okay._

"You work for us, and you don't fight against us."

"I work for you, and I don't fight against you."

_No, wait, why are you saying these things? You can't! This isn't you, Subject S! He's doing something to you! Stop saying these things! Stop!_

"You train to unlock your 'special' abilities."

"I train to unlock my 'special' abilities."

_You're safe. You're fine. The Doctor will take care of you. You are not in any danger. Calm down. Trust him._

"You will fight Subject Q, and you will give it your best."

"I will fight Subject Q, and I will give it my best."

"Even if you need to kill Subject Q."

"Even if . . . even if . . ."

The Doctor leaned in so he was mere inches from my face. "Even if you need to _kill _Subject Q."

"Even if I need to . . . _kill _Subject Q."

_No! Subject S! No! This isn't you! You can't kill Subject Q!_

_You heard The Doctor. That subject is dangerous anyway. Who knows what Subject Q would do to me? I am going to fight, and I am going to give it my best! I will train so I can . . . so I can kill Subject Q!_

_No! Stop this madness! You can't! Subject S, listen! Subject S, come back! Your mind is slipping! Don't join him! Don't listen to him! Don't trust him!_

_I must. I must. He's right. The Doctor . . . I'll listen to The Doctor. I will kill Subject Q._

_No. No. No!_


	4. Chapter 4

*** * * Chapter 4 * * ***

* * *

><p>I pulled out the safety pin and threw the small, round object in my hand. I covered my ears just as the explosion filled the room. My back was pressed against a metal wall, protecting me from the fire. Once it had died out, I charged around the corner.<p>

Something popped out of the wall and I yanked out my pistol, pulling on the trigger and shooting the object a few times. Once the figure—which I knew was only a stuffed dummy—had fallen to the ground, I continued on.

Several weapons were strapped to my chest and waist. The scientists were quite determined that I would become a soldier. I knew that was probably their ultimate plan. Get my mind, get my body. Turn me into their perfect, unquestioning soldier.

I ducked under the bullets spraying at me and rolled behind a wall. _They're actually going to manage to kill me someday. Not that they would be upset about that._

Finally I reached a small door and ran through it. I took a deep breath and released it slowly. I had survived another crazy day of training.

Standing in front of me was a woman. This one was called The Trainer. She stared at me coolly with her arms folded across her chest.

"I have something new to show you today, Subject S," she said. The Trainer walked up to me and handed me a small knife. I grasped the handle and stared at the gleaming blade.

"A dagger?" I said.

"If you ever get in close hand-to-hand combat with an enemy, this will come in handy," she told me. "A quick jab with this could end a life."

I shivered at the way she said that so casually. Talking about human life as if it was nothing. Wait, if one of us "subjects" was the victim of the blade, I supposed it wouldn't matter to her. We weren't human anyway. Not in her eyes.

"I want to see you train with it," The Trainer said. "We have a dummy right over here. Hold the blade like this . . ."

She repositioned my hands. I gripped the dagger with much more confidence than I felt. The Trainer directed my blows, showing me precisely how to fight with the weapon. She had me jab the dummy in the "heart" a few times—the killing blow.

Once or twice I thought about turning the weapon on The Trainer. How hard would it be to swing around and jab _her _in the heart? The killing blow that could mean my freedom . . .

But something stopped me. Somewhere inside I wanted to think that I was too good for that. That I couldn't take an innocent life. But I knew the truth.

Something they had done to me rendered me incapable of hurting any of them. I just _couldn't_. Somehow they had convinced me that they were my allies, not my enemies. And I couldn't convince myself otherwise. My mind was slipping. My mind was not my own.

I jabbed the dummy in the heart one more time.

"Excellent job," The Trainer said. She took the dagger from me and shoved it into my belt. "Don't ever be afraid to use this. It could save your life, Subject S."

"I understand," I whispered. The Trainer began to remove my armor and weapons.

"You have done enough work for today." A few guards entered the room as she finished taking everything off of me. "Time to go back to your cell."

The guards escorted me out and down the halls. It wasn't long before we got back to my cell. I tried to peer into the room that held Subject R, but I was too far away to see through the bars. I thought I saw a bit of brown hair sticking up, but I couldn't quite tell.

I was tossed roughly into my cell and I fell to the ground. My cheek scraped against the metal floor and I winced. The door was slammed shut and it echoed throughout the tiny room.

Gently I got to my hands and knees. I was tired of this treatment. I had thought it a hundred times before, but that didn't stop me from thinking it again.

_I'm a human!_

It was all I could do to hold back a vicious torrent of angry swears. My emotions boiled inside of me. There. That was proof. I was indeed human. I could feel things!

I clutched my head and moaned. This was a nightmare. What was this? Why were they treating me this way? Who was I? Why did they need me? What made me special? Why was I not "working" properly? Why didn't they consider me a human?

Too many questions that I had no answers to. I would probably never find the answers. The people here wouldn't give them to me. They were doing everything in their power to make sure I _didn't _find out.

The worst thing was the fact that my own _brain _held the answers; I knew it did. Somewhere deep in my memories, all the answers were hidden away. If I could only unlock them; if I could only find the key. All my questions would be answered.

If only! If only it would come back to me! But my brain absolutely refused to cooperate. So I was left crouching on the floor with no idea of who I was or where I came from.

Then came another flash through my mind. I saw a dark-skinned boy. He was . . . he was standing next to a man. No, wait, sitting. They were sitting side-by-side. They both looked like they were in pain.

I struggled to remember more of the image, but my brain refused. My breathing quickened. I knew those people! I knew that I knew those people! Who were they? Were they my friends? My enemies?

I was in a forest. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere. There was a . . . a long metal tube nearby. I saw two people standing in front of me. Before I could see them clearly, my mind brought me back to my cell.

"No!" I shouted. "I need to know! I need to know! Who are they? _Who am I_? Tell me! Tell me!"

"Subject S!"

I glanced up as someone shouted my "name."

"What do you want, Subject R?" I called back.

"I want you to be quiet! Subject S, you will never find out about your past, any more than I will find out mine! It will only hurt you to keep trying! Just give up already!"

I climbed onto the cot and leaned against the wall. Anger ran through my veins, and, unfortunately for him, Subject R was about to become the recipient. "No, I'm sick of this!" I yelled. "I'll find out who I am. I will!"

"You can't! Besides, it's dangerous!"

"It's not dangerous for me, just for all the scientists here who could lose me if I remembered who I am! Which makes me want to remember myself even more."

"You need to stop this rebellious attitude, Subject S. How many times do you have to be told that they are here to help us?"

"No they're not! They're changing who I am! Whoever I was before, that's not who I am now."

"Have you ever thought that maybe that's a good thing? Maybe you weren't so good before you came here. Have you ever considered that? Maybe that's why we're here. We didn't do good things, Subject S. They were _forced _to lock us up. They were protecting us and the world."

"Did they tell you that?"

"Yes. And I see no reason to believe they're lying."

"Really? Because I do! Every time The Doctor says, 'This won't hurt,' I wind up screaming in pain. He _lies _to me."

"He's just trying to calm you down. That's just something people say. No one ever really means it."

"No, you can't justify this. Besides, how would you know that people say that?"

"I . . . I don't know."

"There are too many unanswered questions, Subject R. And I know that no one here can answer them for me."

"Well then how do you suppose they can be answered?"

"I don't know! Me . . . I think I can answer them . . . but I don't know how. I get brief glimpses. I know there was something in the past . . . something that will answer everything. I need to find the key. I need to find out how to unlock all my memories."

And suddenly I was standing in an old warehouse. Everything was dark and dull. Several figures stood before me. They were all locked in battle. There were cries of despair and groans of anger. I rushed to do something, but I was flipped over. Pain shot through me.

I gasped and glanced around my cell. "Like that!" I shouted. "I was . . . I was somewhere! There were . . . there were a lot of people! A tall, bald man . . . and people fighting him! And people were . . . were getting hurt! I—I need to make sense of it!"

"Subject S, don't be ridiculous! Whatever your past is, it cannot affect you now!"

"Do you ever remember anything? For even a second? Can you ever remember a different time? Different people? Anything?"

"No!" Subject R roared. "And I don't want to! My past has no affect on me now! I live to follow the orders of our leaders! They control me, and I am satisfied with that! I cannot question. I cannot disobey. I cannot remember. And neither can you! Cut this out before you get into trouble! You have to listen to them, Subject S! You have to do whatever they say!"

"They told me that I'm going to have to fight Subject Q," I said quietly. "And I may have to kill him . . . or her . . ."

"If you need to kill Subject Q, then that's what you must do," Subject R told me. "Do whatever they tell you to do. No questions. No disobedience."

"They've really gotten to you, haven't they, Subject R?" I said after a pause that lasted for a few seconds.

"They taught me things I need to know," he said quietly. "They've opened my eyes."

"They've also shut them in many ways," I replied.

"They taught me what it means to be a soldier. They _need _me, Subject S, and I will be happy to follow them in whatever they need me to do."

"They don't think we're humans," I said slowly. "Maybe they're right. You certainly aren't. You're just a mindless robot."

"Maybe I am."

"And you won't question it."

"No questions. No disobedience. Maybe someday, Subject S, you will become just as enlightened as me."

"If I may be frank, Subject R, I hope that day never comes."

"If I may be just as frank, Subject S, I hope it does. Now, _please _be quiet. I need to _sleep_."

"No promises," I murmured quietly, hoping he didn't hear me. He didn't say anything else.

I buried my face in my knees. Talking to Subject R only made me feel worse. Would I become that mindless someday? Following orders without question? I was already halfway there. I wouldn't acknowledge it in my brain, but I did follow our "leaders" without disobeying them, as much as I _wanted_ to challenge them.

They were twisting me up just like they had twisted him. They were taking my brain. I was not my own person. I had no freedom, no free will, no choice. I was a prisoner.

There was another flash of a few people that I didn't know. They stood in front of me. I didn't even know where I was. It was somewhere with a lot of machinery. It was so quick, so brief, that I wasn't even able to look at their faces.

_Forget your wish for silence, Subject R._

I threw my head back and let out a ferocious, gut-wrenching scream, throwing all my emotion—my anger, my anguish, my regret, my fury—into it. It shook my body and I continued it until I ran out of breath. Then I did it again. It was a deep cry that came from the very depths of my soul. It echoed through the room and came back to my ears: deep, dark, and desperate.


	5. Chapter 5

*** * * Chapter 5 * * ***

* * *

><p>The guards came into my cell and took me out. That was something I was quite used to by now. I didn't really know anything else. But this time was different, because I knew I wasn't going to just do training today. Today was something different.<p>

Earlier I had talked to Subject R about the fact that I might have to kill Subject Q. He told me—again—that I had to listen. I smacked myself afterwards. It had been a bad idea to talk to him.

Still, at the same time, it was nice to have someone to talk to. Even if he wasn't encouraging or positive or even nice . . . he was someone who _would _talk to me, and he was on my level. I wasn't a "lower being" to him. We were equals.

Not that it meant anything in the end. He was too brainwashed for me to have a decent conversation with him.

The guards took me to a new room that I had never been to before. Inside stood The Counselor and The Trainer. The guards exited and I was left alone with them. I found it odd that they were both there. I had never seen them in the same room together.

The Trainer began to help me put on my armor. We didn't talk for a few minutes. The Trainer handed me some of the weapons. A few grenades, my pistol, and the dagger she had trained me with the day before.

"Do you remember what you need to do?" The Counselor asked me suddenly.

"Duel Subject Q and, if necessary, kill my . . . my _enemy_," I said.

"Precisely. Subject S, don't hold back. Your enemy has become ours as well. Subject Q needs to be taken down before it's too late."

"There's a chance," The Trainer said suddenly, "that your enemy will be more challenging than we thought. Subject Q may just fight back . . . and kill _you_."

I sucked in my breath and closed my eyes. "Okay."

"Be prepared for anything," The Counselor said. "Fight with everything inside of you. And remember what we talked about the other day. Appearances don't matter. Don't pay any attention to what Subject Q looks like. Do you understand me, Subject S?"

"Yes, I understand," I said slowly.

"Good. I think you're ready. Trainer?"

"Come on," The Trainer said stiffly. She led me to another door. It led to another room—shocker! Inside _that _room were The Researcher—with his clipboard in hand, as usual—and The Doctor.

"Subject S is ready?" The Doctor asked.

"Yes," The Counselor said simply.

The Doctor walked up to me and pressed something against my neck. It sent a jolt through my body and I yelped in pain. The Doctor withdrew the device and said, "Done. Now Subject S is truly ready."

"Then it's time," The Researcher said. "Throw the subjects in."

The four of them stepped aside and revealed a door. They all looked at me eagerly. I was their test subject _and _their entertainment. I cringed at that thought.

I stepped through the door and found myself in a very large room. The ceiling was extremely high. There was a raised, round platform in the center of the room. I stepped onto it and looked around. Where was my opponent?

Then on the opposite side of the room a door opened. I knew in a moment that the figure standing there was Subject Q. The first thing I noted was that he was a male. My brain stopped there. _No paying attention to appearances, remember?_

_But The Counselor told you that! Since when do you listen to her?_

_I . . . I don't know. But . . . I should. I need to. No paying attention to his looks. No, Subject S! Not at all!_

I would've argued with myself more, but my enemy began to approach. His face was set as he stepped up onto the platform. He was wearing armor like me, but his didn't look quite as protective.

"Let us do this, Subject S," he hissed.

I blinked in surprise. This was the guy they wanted to get rid of? The "failed" experiment? He seemed even more intense than Subject R.

"Gladly," I growled back. I removed a grenade from my waist and threw it at him. He jumped out of the way just as it detonated. He rolled over and looked up at me with anger etched into his face.

The next thing I knew, Subject Q was charging at me. He swung his fist at me, but I leaned backwards and barely missed getting my front teeth knocked out. I jumped away and he turned to look at me.

"Get back here!" he shouted, running towards me. He pulled out his own pistol and shot it a few times. I dodged the bullets by dropping to the ground. He seemed to change his mind about the gun and ran at me instead.

_I don't think I could kill this guy anyway! Why would they want to get rid of him? Was there a mix-up? Is this someone else? Unless . . . _The reality hit me and I felt like an icicle had punctured my heart.

_Unless they want to get rid of _me_. Unless they tricked me and _I'm_ the faulty one. So they threw me in here with this boy—who may or may not be Subject Q—so I would be killed._

_But he has less armor than I do. And his weapons aren't as sophisticated as mine. If he wasn't so powerful and unhesitating, he would have clearly been set up for failure._

_Regardless, one of us isn't leaving alive. And I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure it's not me. Sorry, Subject Q._

I jumped to my feet and tossed a few smoke grenades at the feet of my enemy. He coughed and moved backwards. I advanced, determined to dominate here.

The fog began to dissipate, but I didn't back down. I drew out my pistol and shot the floor next to Subject Q's feet. I wanted to see him jump. He was going down, and I was going to have fun with this.

Without warning, I kicked with my right leg and hit Subject Q square in the chest. He went flying backwards and landed on the ground. He groaned and glared at me.

Then suddenly his face softened. I watched in fascination as Subject Q looked around as if he was confused. His eyes locked with mine and his jaw fell open.

"Wh-What?" he stammered. "You're . . . you're Subject S?"

"Yes I am," I hissed. "And you're going down, Subject Q." I moved to kick him again, but he rolled out of the way and stood up.

"No," he murmured. "No, I won't fight you."

_Oh, so this is why he's defective. Looks like they aren't trying to destroy me. It really is him. Good. I will enjoy brining down this mistake._

_Are you kidding? Stop this, Subject S! He doesn't want to fight! Use that to your advantage! Maybe he can tell you who you are. Make peace! Escape with him! This is your chance!_

_No! No, I won't. I will kill him. I will kill him. He needs to die. Subject R is right. Rebellion is too dangerous. This is his own fault. Subject Q will be exterminated today. Right now._

_No!_

_Shut up._

I charged at Subject Q and attempted to bring him down again with a series of punches, but he managed to duck them all.

"Stop!" he pleaded with me. "You can't do this!"

"Actually, I can!"

"No, stop! Look . . . I don't know what they told you, but they're lying! They're lying! You need to listen to me—"

"No!" I screamed, cutting him off. "Fight or die!"

Subject Q's face softened. "Then I choose death."

I watched in amazement as he stood still and spread his arms out. Surely this was some kind of a trick. I yanked out my pistol and pulled the trigger. The bullet flew right past his ear, but he didn't so much as flinch.

"Do it," he said. "Kill me now."

I moved the pistol and aimed it at his chest. Then I remembered the new weapon I had received the day before. Now would be the perfect chance to use it. And, if he did pull some kind of trick, it would be easy enough to stab him with.

I unsheathed the weapon. The handle of the dagger felt good in the palm of my hand. I advanced towards my enemy slowly. He didn't move at all. He just stared at me.

_You can't do this! He's innocent! Why do you listen to them, Subject S? You can't! Don't hurt him!_

_No! Kill him now! No remorse, Subject S. He deserves to die. Don't betray them. They know what's best for you. No questions. No disobedience._

"No questions. No disobedience."

"Do what you need to do," Subject Q told me. "And if you ever remember, please know that I forgive you . . ."

_Don't do it! No!_

I plunged the dagger into Subject Q's chest.

As he exhaled for the final time, a name parted his lips. "Bree . . ."

I gasped at the name and removed the dagger from his blood-stained chest. He crumpled to the ground. Tears entered my eyes. Suddenly everything came flying back into my mind.

I was Bree Davenport. I was seventeen years old. I was a bionic superhuman trained from birth to save the world. I spent the first fifteen years of my life locked up in my father's basement/lab. He trained us to do good.

Adam. Chase. Leo. Mr. Davenport. Douglas. Tasha. Principle Perry. Marcus. Victor Krane. S-1. Every name came back into my memory.

There was one condition to us living in the real world; one rule. We broke it. We were discovered, and the government just had to get involved.

Things came back in a rush. I remembered being captured by the government. I remembered Agent Graham hunting us down until he finally caught us. I remembered him yelling as The Doctor strapped me to the table and began to do something that involved tampering with my memory.

Subject R. I knew that I had recognized his voice. It was my older brother. It was Adam. They had completely altered his personality. They had changed him. They had twisted him up until he wasn't my brother at all.

_Wait, if Subject R was Adam . . . then who did I just kill?_

My lip quivered as I looked down at the lifeless body slumped on the floor. I knew exactly what I would see, but I didn't want to look.

"Chase!" I screamed.

I fell onto my hands and knees, not bothering to keep back the tears that were already streaming down my face. Desperately I felt for a pulse, knowing that I would not find one.

"Chase, no, no!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. "No, come back to me! I'm sorry! I didn't know it was you! I'm not Subject S! I'm Bree! I'm your sister! I'm sorry! I didn't want to kill you! Oh, Chase, Chase, Chase!"

I said his name over and over again as if it was the magic spell that would bring him back to me. I touched his cold cheek and turned him over gently. I lay my head down on his still chest. Blood stained my hair, but I didn't care.

"No," I murmured. Then the emotions swelled up in my chest and I became louder: "No! You monsters! What did you do? He was my brother! Subject Q was Chase! He's my brother! Why did you make me kill him? Why? Why?"

So many emotions raged inside of me. There was a terrible, aching sadness. There was a desperation to reverse time to just a few minutes ago. There was regret of what I had done—even if I hadn't known what I was doing. Most of all, there was anger. It was anger at the people who had made me do it. The people who had made me kill my own little brother.

"No!" I screamed again as loud as I could. My desperate yells from the day before couldn't even compare to my pain-filled, sobbing, anguished screams while caressing my brother's dead body. "Come back to me, Chase! Chase! No!"

_What did I tell you? Why would you do it? Bree! You're Bree! That's Chase! You should've paid more attention to his looks! You should've stopped fighting with him! He would've told you! Why did you keep fighting?_

"No!"

Strong hands gripped my arms and lifted me off of my brother. I struggled and fought with all my strength, but it was futile. They dragged me out of the room, away from Chase. I knew what they were going to do. They were going to erase my memory again. I wouldn't remember.

Their test subject wouldn't remember.

Their experiment wouldn't remember.

Their lab rat wouldn't be allowed to remember anything.

* * *

><p><strong>* * * The end * * *<strong>


End file.
